


Wherever you go, I must follow

by historiareiss



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, and this is yet one more take from me on how it's all going to end, so last night's trailer has left me in tears, these feelings will not let me rest until i know for certain that it's over, you're probably tired of hearing from me at this point but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 20:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18018059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historiareiss/pseuds/historiareiss
Summary: The look in his eyes was shrouded by tears and a dark, worn-out will. Just like his twin, he longed to be at peace and reunited with her, as they were in the maternal womb. “Wherever you go, I must follow.”





	Wherever you go, I must follow

The smoke from the fire raging outside hung heavy in the air, so heavy and stifling that the throne room was filled with it. After endless months of ice and frost, finally came the fire.  
Cersei always liked the latter better. If the world was to end, then let it be in fire. It was only appropriate. Qyburn seemed to agree with her on that front, so he had kept to his lodgings in the dungeons.

“If all is lost, I'd rather wait for my end with my experiments and creations, Your Grace. The poor wretches are all I have, and I'd gladly be buried with them.”

The Queen couldn't deny him that. He had served her faithfully, he never showed a hint of fear, even when the fire-spitting beasts of Daenerys Targaryen descended from the sky, burning every soldier she sent their way in his armour, or when the wights came marching in through the city's gate. He killed and maimed and gave birth to monstrosities for her, never asking anything in return.   
All he wanted now was to be allowed his last moments with his monstrosities, and that she would give him for sure.

But who was she to spend her last moments with?

All had abandoned her now. Even the quickening she carried, her very last, had been washed away from her with her moon-blood. Cersei Lannister stood alone in front of the end of the world, the ghosts of those she had buried quietly gathering around her to see how she would meet her doom.

Father, Ned Stark and his firstborn, Robert and his brothers, several uncles and aunts of hers, even those she barely remembered from the erased tiles of her childhood at the Rock, Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen, Melara, Mother, Maggy the Frog, and the more she looked, the further back in time they sprung from.

Some tried to speak to her, but their throats were weak and empty.

She would join them soon, and yet at her own terms. Cersei pulled out of her kingly robes a small vial, the greenish content inside gleamed mischievously under the light of the flames.

Qyburn's last gift to her. She hadn't wanted poison, like under the siege of King's Landing, promptly lifted by her father's army, a few years back. But Tywin Lannister had been long dead, and nobody would come to her aid now. No, for this she had wanted _wildfire_.

The Grand Maester warned her that it made one's insides burn and melt like wax, the pain it caused was excruciating, even for the few moments that it would take to die.   
He had, however, countless potions in his chambers, that were both painless and potent, if she would trust him one last time. But she had been adamant on her choice and wildfire it was.

Cersei poured the emerald liquid into one last glass of wine, preparing to drink to her death, when the massive door of the throne room swung open.   
Was it too late? Was she to die in front of the Dragon Queen, and burst in flames like the rest of her enemies?

She was filled with terror and relief at once, when she saw that it was actually Jaime, standing on the threshold. His skin was blackened by the smoke, his beard unshaven, his face had been scarred in battle, albeit the result wasn't as hideous as it had been on Tyrion at Blackwater. He looked threadbare, but alive and firm in his resolve. Once again, her perfect mirror.

“Have you come to _negotiate_?”

The word painted her chapped lips with a smirk of distasteful humour, which Jaime didn't share.

“You know why I am here.”

His voice was coarse and low, as if it would hide tears, or something else just as shameful.

The last scattered pieces on the board were finally coming together now. Fire was never her intended way to die, it had been the _valonqar_ all along, and she met him on the road she took to avoid him.

Cersei singled Maggy out of all the other ghosts around her. She was croaking and smirking like an old crow, and her yellowish pointed teeth clattered together like rusty pots.

Who would have thought that the witch's way would be the sweeter way, in the end?

Her gaze went back to Jaime, who was slowly approaching the raised dais where the throne stood.

She poured the mixture of wildfire and wine on the ground at her feet.

“Come,” Cersei urged him now, as she had done all those times in the stolen moments of intimacy between them, ever since they were scarcely more than children, “Let us end as we began.”

Her twin climbed the steps and took her head in his hands, as he had done countless times before, when he wouldn't be denied a kiss from her forbidden lips.   
The look in his eyes was shrouded by tears and a dark, worn-out will. Just like his twin, he longed to be at peace and reunited with her, as they were in the maternal womb.

“Wherever you go, I must follow.” Jaime pressed his mouth to hers, as he squeezed the life out of her with his only hand.

 

 

 


End file.
